Serving The Horsemen
by Ya Nefer Ma'at
Summary: Suppose that Kronos takes the Horsemen out for dinner, to celebrate their reunion. What would it be like to be their waitress?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Horsemen belong to those who own Highlander, the Series. No profit will be made from this story, and no infringement is intended.

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><p>Serving the Horsemen<p>

By Ya Nefer Ma'at

Chapter 1: Introductions

Madeleine took a deep, steadying breath as she approached a table of four wild-looking men. She held the menus in front of her like a shield. The men were talking animatedly, full of life and intemperate passion. Not the type of customer she liked to serve, but sometimes, the type that tipped really well.

They abruptly broke off their conversation, spinning to stare at her, before she was even half-way across the room to them. She paused, startled. It was as if they had sensed her, and her sense was not to their liking. To a man, they studied her, delighted smiles slowly spreading their lips. The men exchanged significant looks and talked excitedly in a language unknown to her, still watching like hawks. Their expressions were disconcerting, to say the least.

Madeleine replaced her uncertain look with a professional smile, stopping between a man with a long scar tracking from forehead to mouth, catching his right eyelid, and another with tattooed head and smooth, Mohawk-style hair.

"Bon soir, gentlemen," she smiled, pretending to be calm. They looked up at her with smiles that made her skin crawl. She hoped that they couldn't sense her nervousness, but suspected that they easily could.

The scarred man spoke, his voice strong and commanding. "We're not _gentle_men," he informed her, to the delight of the others.

Madeleine tilted her head, considering his remark. "Good evening, rough-men?" she offered, meeting Scarface's hazel eyes.

He grinned up at her. "_Horse_men."

"Horsemen!" Madeleine's eyebrows quirked.

"Apocalyptic Horsemen."

"Ah."

_Mon Dieu!_ Madeleine thought, keeping her face pleasant, _Bloody nutjobs! Give me strength!_

"So, whichever one of you orders the most food would be Famine, then?"

They roared with laughter at this. The man on her right with the Mohawk hair-style squeezed her thigh appraisingly. "Famine would be the one who wants to eat _you_," he said softly, pleased with the irritation she showed at his uninvited touch.

"I am _not_ on the menu," Madeleine said firmly, ignoring the laughter. She handed the menus out, hoping to restore the proceedings to something rather more normal. Mohawk was still studying her body, almost salivating, but at least he wasn't fondling her anymore. Scarface, on the other hand, was staring avidly at her face, as if harvesting the thoughts she tried to keep to herself. "May I get you some drinks? Bloody Marys, perhaps?"

More of that savage, wild mirth.

"What do you fancy, brothers?" Scarface smiled at his companions, "Ale, wine, whisky?" They brightened up at 'whisky'. "What types of Scottish whisky do you have?" he asked, returning his sharp gaze to Madeleine.

She cocked her head, glancing back toward the bar. "We have the usual single malts… Glenfiddich, Glenmorangie, Belvenie." She shrugged. "It depends on your tastes. We have Islay single malts, such as Laphroaig and Ardbeg, if you like it smoky. If not, I would recommend Ancient Reserve Isle of Jura or Edra Dour, if money isn't an issue. Tamdhu is perfect you want an excellent whisky with a more reasonable price-tag. Then there's salty." She paused expectantly.

"I'll have smoky whisky," announced Mohawk, still appraising her with that unnerving, single-minded hunger.

"Laphroaig or Ardbeg?"

"Ardbeg."

She inclined her head. "Famine likes it smoky," she observed, looking at the rest.

"So does War!" barked the largest of the men, sitting to Mohawk's right.

His proclamation startled a laugh from Madeleine. "War would," she agreed. "Ardbeg as well?"

"No. Laphroaig." Scarface answered for him. "We're buying bottles, not glasses."

"Bottles." Madeleine frowned. "Um." She seemed to be steeling herself. "Then I will need your car keys. And, a credit card."

Scarface grinned. "Money is not an issue." He presented a wallet bulging with American money. High denominations, too. "Satisfied?"

Madeleine considered him. "I'll see what the manager says. Car keys?"

Scarface dug the keys out, putting them into her hand and closing it, holding her fist between his hands. He continued to hold her eyes. "_You_ keep them. _You_, and no one else. Take them home with you, when you leave tonight," he instructed. "Understand?"

Madeleine frowned, trying to comprehend the hidden meaning in his tone, unable to understand it from his words. "Oui…" she said eventually, still uncertain.

"Repeat your orders."

_Orders?_ Madeleine cocked her head. Scarface squeezed her hand gently, looking compellingly up at her as if this was very important. "I will keep these, rather than leave them with the barman," she obediently repeated.

"And?"

"And I will take them home with me tonight."

"Good girl." Scarface released her hands and leaned back.

Madeleine was silent, studying the other. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the keys in her palm. She made a point of dropping them into the pocket of the pretty apron she wore over her simple dress. Scarface watched her, his piercing gaze a sharp contrast to the pleasant smile stretching his lips.

Madeleine straightened up, resuming her professional mien. "Ardbeg for Famine; Laphroaig for War." She followed Scarface's gaze to the fourth Horseman, the one who looked least threatening. "And which whisky would… Death?… like?"

He nodded, smiling slightly, while the others hooted and celebrated him. "What whisky is the salty one?"

"Old Pulteney."

He looked inquiringly.

"It's from Thurso, right up on the North Sea. Supposedly, sea spray gets in the mash. I've had some bottles with a wonderful salty edge, but other bottles that were very pedestrian, really. I don't know what our stock is like… you might want to sample it first."

"I'll chance it," Death smiled, looking at Scarface.

"If you don't like it, we'll get another, brother," Scarface smiled back paternally. He turned to meet Madeleine's eyes.

"I guess that makes you Pestilence," she observed.

He grinned, inclining his head regally.

She sighed. "Then I hope that you're going to behave yourself," she said quietly, earning an expectant look, as if she was sure to amuse him with her next words. "Contagion is not welcome in any restaurant."

More unbridled laughter.

"Get me a bottle of Edra Dour, woman," Scarface ordered, smacking Madeleine smartly. He laughed when she jumped, eyes wide. She carefully bit back the words on her tongue, turning toward the bar. His hazel gaze followed her appreciatively.

Methos watched her go as well. "She'll do well in the Game, won't she, once she's out of her first life," he observed thoughtfully.

"I think she will," Kronos smiled broadly, meeting Methos' gaze. "Perhaps we should bring her into her Immortal splendor."

"That would be pleasant, brother," Methos smiled, opening his menu.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The Horsemen belong to those who own Highlander, the Series. No profit will be made from this story, and no infringement is intended.

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><p>Serving the Horsemen<p>

By Ya Nefer Ma'at

Chapter 2: The Horsemen's Marks

Caspian pushed his dessert plate away with a soft groan, sitting back. He was the last of the Horsemen to finish eating what had been an excellent feast, a celebration of their reunion. Kronos, Methos and Silas were contentedly enjoying their whisky, leaning back in their chairs with the look of the replete. They were the only patrons remaining in the restaurant.

Madeleine was leaning against the bar. Seeing Caspian pour himself more Ardbeg, she sighed softly, whispering "Are they _ever_ going to leave?" to the barman. She found Methos' steady gaze on her when she turned back. She couldn't interpret the look on his angular face. Madeleine straightened up, coming forward. Kronos immediately angled his head to watch her. He reminded her of a wild cat: he might purr, or attack without warning.

"Well, Agents of Armageddon?" she said pleasantly, stopping between Methos and Silas, warier of Kronos and Caspian than of them. Caspian casually returned his attention to her body. She would have jokingly asked if Famine could possibly be full, but the ravenous look in his face as he stared at her breasts suggested that this would be a very bad idea. "More desserts? Cheese and fruit? Coffees? Cappuccinos? Liqueurs?"

Kronos stretched languidly. Madeleine was forcibly struck by the fluid, muscular grace of his movement. All four men looked dangerous, formidable opponents in whatever criminal life she imagined they were engaged in. She thought grimly that she wouldn't be surprised if they were hiding weapons in their coats. They shared looks, then Kronos shook his head. "Nothing more."

Caspian spoke suddenly in the old language, his gaze remaining on Madeleine's chest. Kronos started to grin, together with Silas, as Caspian's words played out. Methos' gaze darted between them; he was shaking his head warningly. Kronos considered Methos, then looked calmly at Madeleine.

"Except your pen," Kronos amended.

She wasn't the only one to look surprised. Caspian looked at Kronos sharply; it seemed to Madeleine that he was complaining. Kronos answered firmly, while Madeleine was aware that Methos seemed to relax a bit. Submitting with a scowl, Caspian turned his attention back to her, putting his hand out. She timidly held the pen out, across the table, but Caspian didn't take it. He merely met her eyes, indicating with a crooked finger that she was to bring it around to him. Caspian's mad grin was unnerving; Methos had to push her to get her moving.

Looking wary, Madeleine circled around the table to Caspian's side. He took the pen, then darted a hand out to seize her left arm, pulling it across his chest. Kronos and Methos both watched alertly, as if Caspian might disobey. Madeleine shook her head quickly at the barman as Caspian exposed the white inner arm, stroking it before drawing a symbol on the smooth skin below the crook of her elbow. Beside her, Silas watched delightedly. Caspian released Madeleine, sharing a grin with Kronos. Silas immediately seized her other arm, laughing like a child. Caspian passed the pen over, and Silas drew his symbol on her right arm, in the sister spot to the one Caspian had chosen.

Madeleine looked curiously at her arms, putting them together, eyebrow raised. "Merci," she bit out. "I feel like a giant doodle pad."

She was aware of Kronos' sharp gaze on her face, and thought it likely that Methos was watching her as well. They were like wolves hungry for signs of weakness, waiting to move in for the kill. She started picking up plates, hoping against hope that the other two men wouldn't feel the need to sign her skin as well. She moved away from Caspian as soon as she could, without provoking his obvious aggression.

Just as she started to turn away, Methos leaned forward and took the pen from Silas. "Wait," Methos commanded, moving around the table to tower over her. She forced herself to stop and show him an untroubled face, ignoring the laughter of the other men. Methos twiddled the pen, looking over Madeleine as he considered where to leave his sign. At length, he pushed her hair off her face, sketching his symbol on her forehead. Behind him, the Horsemen laughed and exchanged comments in the old tongue. When he finished, Methos gently cradled Madeleine's face, kissing the mark on her forehead. He was aware that she was trembling subtly under his lips, afraid but determined not to show her fear. Releasing her, he looked past her to Kronos.

Madeleine turned as well, exhaling resignedly. She found Kronos looking at her breasts, his expression quite different than the leering stare Caspian had directed on her. When he looked up to meet her eyes, his smile spreading, she brought her chin up. "Oh no," she bit out, hugging the dirty dishes defensively, "You're not drawing on my chest!"

She tried to turn away, but found Methos blocking her. He took her firmly by her arms, staring down at her with a warning expression before squaring her up to Kronos. Caspian pulled the dishes from her, grinning.

"Madeleine!" the barman shouted, starting forward. Kronos sprang up, glaring at him. Madeleine quickly looked over, shaking her head. The barman stopped, staring at them, then reluctantly withdrew to his place behind the bar. When Madeleine looked back, Kronos was standing very close, looking down into her face.

"Madeleine," Kronos repeated. "Pretty name."

Madeleine compressed her lips, staring up at him with false bravado. He pushed her hair up to examine Methos' mark, smiling at Methos over Madeleine's head. He took the pen from Methos, then dropped his gaze to the neckline of Madeleine's blouse, where the tops of her breasts were partially visible. He stroked along the material, looking critically at the smooth flesh. Madeleine exhaled sharply, starting to get angry. He grinned at her, unbuttoning the top button so that the top of her bra was exposed. Humming, he carefully sketched his sign in the V above her breasts. Methos looked over Madeleine's shoulder, watching him work. Kronos grinned at her again, then dipped his head to kiss the skin where he had signed her. His men laughed and egged him on. He lifted his head, looking very pleased with himself.

Madeleine shook Methos off, angrily fastening her blouse. She glared at Kronos.

Kronos smiled, pleased with her spirit. He stopped her when she turned toward the table, catching her chin and forcing her wary gaze back to his. "Be thankful: we usually use knives to carve our marks on our women."

Madeleine looked sharply at him, going white.

"The Apocalypse is at hand," Kronos continued, sliding his hand along her jaw and through her hair to cradle the back of her head. "Your fate, however, is not to die. Once you're dead, come to us, and we'll show you how to live forever."

She looked completely taken aback by his words, causing him to chuckle.

"Mark my words," Kronos smiled, cocking his head playfully, patting Madeleine's cheek. He held her big eyes for a protracted moment, then reached into the pocket of her apron. She jumped at the feeling of his fingers against her body. His other hand, still at the back of her head, stopped her instinctive attempt to move away. Kronos found the bill she had ready for him. He scanned it, releasing her to pull his wallet out.

Madeleine heaved a quick breath, stepping back slowly. She was aware of how Caspian's gaze followed her. She refused to look at any of the Horsemen. Instead, she circled behind Kronos and became busy stacking the remaining dishes, standing by Methos' empty chair. She continued in her work as Caspian and Silas stood up, their attention on Kronos.

Kronos quietly placed a large pile of American money onto the table, glancing at Madeleine as he did so. He stepped over to her. She met his eyes with a sigh, her expression wary. He grinned, pushing a wad of money into her apron. "Your tip, woman," he murmured, stepping back with a pleased look, while Madeleine forced her hands to unclench. "You have served us well, as you will in your true life. Once you're reborn, don't forget that you belong to the Horsemen… and be sure that you don't make us come looking for you!" He pinched her chin before turning away, making her throw her head like a spirited filly. Madeleine joined the barman in watching warily as the Horsemen left.

Out in the cool air and diffuse light of the Bordeaux street, Kronos tossed his car keys in the air, smiling. Madeleine hadn't noticed him retrieving them from her apron. He shared a pleased look with his men. "Come, brothers. We have work to do!" he purred, leading them into the night.

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><p>Author's Note: this is as far as I plan to take this story, as Highlander fans will know what happened to the Horsemen following their reunion. Anyone who wishes to take up the story is more than welcome to! Thanks for reading. Cheers, Ya Nefer Ma'at<p> 


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